


You Deserve To Be Happy

by comebacknow



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Discussion of character death, M/M, Safe Haven, Super Angst, newtmas implied but not explicit, post tdc, tdc spoilers obvi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 07:47:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13585518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comebacknow/pseuds/comebacknow
Summary: Thomas deals with life in the Safe Haven and learns to cope with the help of friends.





	You Deserve To Be Happy

**Author's Note:**

> Super short. I enjoy angst. I might expand this one day with detail. Cross-posted to my tumblr, same username as here.

He could smell the warmth and sweet sugar of the moonshine on his breath as he leaned forward. “Come on, Tommy, you’ll pick it up. We’ve all been the greenie before, even me.”

Thomas rubbed the back of his neck, the heat from the fire behind him causing small beads of sweat to pop up. 

A thin hand grasped his and pulled it from around his neck, lightly holding his fingers. Thomas turned his head to the side and saw just how close his friend was sitting to him. “Come on. Let me show you around.”

Thomas dropped his gaze back down to their hands. “I don’t know. I think I just want to sit here.”

He watched as the boy’s fingers tightened just a bit around his own. “Please, Tommy. Please.”

A jolted stutter of a heartbeat came and Thomas whipped his head up to the left. Black-plated eyes stared back at him, a gaping mouth with venom seeping from the sides, dark veins pulsing from the neck of the boy neck to him as he leaned forward to attack.

***

Thomas hit the ground hard, felt hands gripping his chest. 

“Thomas! THOMAS!”

A moment later, thundered footsteps and suddenly a shock of pain to his face and Thomas’ vision blurred and cleared. 

“Thomas?”

Thomas blinked up at Minho, hovering over him; Gally standing behind him, shaking out a red fist.

Thomas gasped a breath, another. “Where..? Where is..?” Another breath.

“Thomas, you were dreaming,” Minho’s gaze flickered between his eyes, concern pouring through them.

His heart slowed to a decent pace as the boys lifted him from the ground. He turned to the side to see his hammock, blankets tossed aside, pillow discarded. The Safe Haven, right. Right. He absentmindedly lifted a hand to the chain around his neck, fingering the metal against his damp skin.

“Come on, let’s get you some food.” Minho slung an arm around his friend pulling him out of the tent.

“You’re welcome,” Gally called back over his shoulder.

Thomas could feel Minho turn back, could hear the faint movement of lips as he mouthed something to the boy but couldn’t focus enough. He could still hear those words in his ears.

Minho walked him around the back of the tents, out into the uneven ground behind the storage tent, around the trees and knotted roots. This was the route they always took the mornings after Thomas woke up screaming, clutching his chest, crying for a boy he’d never see again. This was the route Minho made him take after those mornings, away from The Stone. 

They reached the food tent and Brenda nodded at him. “You look like hell,” she laughed. Thomas’ gaze stayed fixed on the floor ahead of him, vaguely aware of Minho’s shadow shaking its head at her. “Right,” Brenda’s voice came. “Fresh bacon coming up.”

“No.” Thomas sprang up suddenly, looking at her. In a moment’s flash of memory he saw Frypan tossing bacon at him, felt the heat of the campfire, heard the small chuckle of the boy next to him. Thomas blinked it out of view until Brenda came back, eyebrows raised. “Just… just eggs are fine.”

Brenda just nodded, a small glance to Minho.

 

The Safe Haven began to wake by the time they were done eating. Jorge started up the hunting crew for the woods, Vince gathered a group of younger kids for lessons. Another normal day in the Safe Haven. 

“Thomas…”

He kept his eyes trained forward as Minho spoke to him, focusing on Aris and Harriet attempting to finish roofing another small hut.

“Thomas, we’ve got to talk about this.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Yes. We do.” Thomas felt Minho’s fingers on his face, turning him to lock eyes. “I can’t keep waking up to you screaming. None of us can.” He dropped his hand and raised his brows to him.

“Yeah, well, it’s not exactly something I can control,” he murmured, barely above a whisper. He clasped his hands between his knees as he leaned forward. He felt the necklace shift against his chest at the movement.

“Thomas, you can’t keep reading it.”

He felt his jaw clench and shifted his gaze back to Aris and Harriet.

“I mean it. It’s tough, I know that. But this isn’t good for you.”

Thomas could feel the rage boiling up, trying desperately to shove it deeper.

“You need to let-”

“Minho.” Thomas shot a glance to the side, locking on Minho’s eyes again, the words coming out before he could stop them. “You don’t get it. You weren’t there. I had to watch it happen. I was there, Minho. I felt his body come still in my arms. You have no idea what that felt like, so don’t sit here and tell me that I need to get over it.”

A silence settled between them as Minho’s eyes darkened just a tint.

“Thomas. You’re right. I wasn’t there. I didn’t hold him, I wasn’t with him. But don’t think for a second, that I don’t feel the same pain as you. Don’t you dare think I didn’t hurt just as much, seeing him. Knowing I could have saved him if I’d ran faster. If I’d gotten to Brenda. Don’t you think Gally and I beat ourselves up every night? He was my friend, too, Thomas. Just because I don’t show that grief doesn’t mean I’m okay. Doesn’t mean I don’t wake up waiting to hear his voice. You have no idea about our friendship, what he meant to me, so don’t you dare sit there and tell me I don’t get it or that I don’t miss him.”

Thomas let his chest cave, watching Minho’s shoulders rising and falling with his breaths, his face tinged just a bit red with anger. “I’m…I’m sorry.”

Minho exhaled next to him, dropping his head. “I know.” The boys locked eyes again. “Thomas, I can’t imagine what it was like for you in that moment. I know it was tough, but you can’t sit here and sink into that moment every day. It’s not good for you. You think I like having to jump out of bed every morning? You think Gally likes having to punch you in the face to make you snap out of it?”

“Maybe that last one,” Thomas huffed a small laugh.

Minho allowed a smirk before continuing. “Thomas, pl-.” 

Thomas gave an involuntary twitch as Minho cut himself off, swallowed, rephrased.

“Thomas, do us a favor and come with us. Spend the day out with us.”

“I just don’t want to forget him.”

“You never will, Thomas. Ever. And just because you let yourself laugh once or twice or smile, doesn’t mean that you’re okay with it. But Thomas, he wants you to be happy.”

“Wanted,” Thomas couldn’t help the correction.

Minho took a steadying breath. “Thomas, he loved you. He loved all of us. And that?” The boy gestured to the chain around Thomas’ neck. “He gave that to you so you’d know. He made sure you had that, so you would know that he wanted you to be happy.”

Thomas ran a hand down his face, fighting the painful swallow, the burning behind his eyes. 

“Let yourself be happy, Thomas.”

Thomas took a steadying breath. “Yeah.” He nodded. “I just need a minute. I’ll meet you by the storage hut.”

Minho nodded at him and with a clap on his shoulder, took off.

 

Thomas sat for a while, not exactly knowing how long. Finally, he stood. Fingering the chain around his neck, he stepped forward from the edge of the woods, past the food tent, past the lessons Vince gave. Some of the kids turned their heads, glanced at him. He moved forward, eyes set ahead.

 

The surface of the stone was rough beneath his fingers as his graze slid over the names. All of them. He landed on his friend’s, fingers shaking over the indentations. 

“I’m sorry about your friend.”

Thomas jumped at the voice. “I didn’t know anyone was here.”

Sonya blushed a tint, “sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Thomas just nodded, looking back to his friend’s name as he spoke to her. “There are so many names on here. So many stories.”

The girl’s thin hand reached up and pointed to another name, one he didn’t recognize. “She was our friend.”

Thomas turned his head to the girl, tears coming to her dark brown eyes, but not falling. “I miss her every day.”

“How do you do it?” He asked, hardly loud enough to hear.

She turned to him, pushing his sandy blonde hair from her face, blinking her eyes clear. “We talk.”

Thomas furrowed his brows.

“Me, Harriet, Aris. We all remember her. Everything good about her. How she would sing to us at night during our newcomer parties. She made the best food of everyone. I don’t know if you know, but our glade was made of ice and snow. It took me a while, but she helped me enjoy it. We’d built forts, snowmen.” Sonya laughed a small laugh, a slight break in her voice to it. “She was my best friend.”

“She sounds great,” Thomas nodded.

He watched as Sonya’s hand lifted and pointed to Newt’s name.

Thomas swallowed, staring at the letters.

“Tell me about him,” Sonya tilted her head at him.

Thomas continued to stare at the letters, heart beating, the chain cool around his neck. He thought of dark brown eyes, lanky limbs. He thought of a lopsided smile and short blonde locks. He thought of hands in dirt, helping things grow where they felt hopeless. He thought of uneven steps on their walks. He thought of grasping hands in distress, and hugs in celebration. He thought of long talks on cliffs, at campfires, in sand dunes. He thought of consoling words, foreheads leaned together in silence, urging each other to move forward, to keep going. He thought of snarky comments in a accented drawl. He thought of hearts pounding while running, climbing, escaping. He thought of everything, every word, every silent glance across the glade, across sand dunes, across meetings, across a crowded room. He thought of Newt.

“I think I loved him.”


End file.
